


O Christmas Tree

by Sarina_Argus



Category: Batman and Robin (Comics), DC Comics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:42:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22295764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarina_Argus/pseuds/Sarina_Argus
Summary: Bruce and Dick's first Christmas Eve together.  For Dick, it's the first time he's had to face Christmas without his parents.  For Bruce, he can't just shut aside the holiday the way he has growing up because now he has a child to care for.
Kudos: 1





	O Christmas Tree

**Author's Note:**

> (Author’s Notes: Canon tells us that Bruce and Dick were raised as Catholics, so I’m going off that. Also, I’m going back to the time when it was ok for schools to have holiday parties, sing Christmas carols and all that… you know when I was young. I don’t mean any offense to anyone, and I apologize in advance for any possible misunderstandings. Happy Solstichrismahannukwannzuka and a meaningful Ramadan for good measure. Oh and if I left anyone out, Merry Ho ho to you too.)

Bruce spotted Dick in the study, diligently finishing his homework. “How’s it going in here?”

“Not too bad,” the boy answered. “I have to do a whole two-pages on William Taft, and find 10 bugs for my science report tomorrow.”

“Hmm.” Bruce leaned on the door frame. “I’m rusty on my presidents, but I’m sure we can find bugs before it gets too dark.

“That’s what Alfred said. But there are some big books on presidents in here; I think I can handle that.” Dick went back to scratching away at the page. 

Alfred stood in the kitchen doorway. “Master Bruce, there are a few forms that require your attention. I’ve left them on your desk.”

Bruce set his briefcase down and turned his attention to the colored pages. Holiday Concert. Holiday Party. PTA Gift Bazaar. Bruce sank heavily into his chair. 

He hated Christmas. 

Hate was probably too strong a word. Bruce had no use for Christmas. After his parents were murdered, he remembered Alfred doing his best to make the holiday special again, but despite all his good intentions, Bruce had no love for what he called “the Silly Season,” when people spent money they didn’t have for things they didn’t want and to give meaningless gifts to people they really didn’t like in the first place. There were exceptions, of course. Wayne Foundation donated millions to charities all year round, not just the season of over-commercialized artificial cheer. Bruce even gave his people the week between Christmas and New Year’s Day off with pay. He hired people to decorate the manor exterior with Christmas lights and trim the estate trees with garland, not because of any special meaning, but because no society house could ever be seen as a “Scrooge House.” Bruce knew what was expected of him, but for himself, he had no designs for the silly season.

Instead of celebrating consumer whoredom, Bruce and Alfred would have normally left town. Often they’d head to the Seychelles, to Bruce’s estate there, or to New Zealand where they’d wander the outback. The last few Christmases, Batman would prowl the alleys and rooftops from dusk to dawn, then arrive back at the manor and get a full day’s sleep. Alfred would often have breakfast waiting for him, or a well-timed afternoon snack, but that would be the extent to their holiday merriment.

Now he had a boy. And he had different obligations and expectations to meet. And he had no clue where to start.

“You don’t have to go to the concert. We sound awful.” Dick was standing in the doorway, watching Bruce carefully.

Bruce looked up, flustered. “If you’re singing, I’ll be there… unless you don’t want me to go.” At Dick’s non-committal shrug, Bruce shuffled the papers around. “What will you be singing?”

“’Jingle Bell Rock’ so far. We’ll be singing ‘Up on the Rooftop’ if Ryan Brenner can remember the stupid words. The kindergarteners are singing ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ but all they really get to sing are the ‘rumpapum pums.’”

“Sounds very Christmasy.” Bruce cleared his throat. “Speaking of which, is there anything you’d like for Christmas? I know you’re already past believing in Santa Claus.” 

Another non-committal shrug. “Whatever.”

Once again at a loss, Bruce said, “If you think of anything, just let me know.” Turning his attention back to the papers, he held up the bazaar announcement. “It says they’ll have a little shop set up at your school if you’d like to pick anything up for any of your friends. Just let Alfred or me know…” 

Another shrug.

“Or if you like, we can go to the mall for some Christmas shopping. Whatever you like.”

“That’s ok,” Dick mumbled. “I’m not really feeling very Christmasy this year.” 

Bruce knew that feeling. “Well, whatever you feel like, don’t be afraid to ask.”

Dick nodded, the turned quietly and left the room. 

The tree took them both by surprise.

At about two feet tall, scrawny, in an equally non-descript black pot, it sat on the study table looking out of place. Dick was still staring at it when Bruce came down the stairs.

“Hey Dick, when did you pick out the tree?” Bruce asked. 

Dick looked almost embarrassed. “I thought you did.”

“Master Bruce, Master Richard, I took the liberty of having a small tree delivered for the holiday. Since we don’t have any specific vacation plans, I thought it would be a pleasant decoration for the holiday.” Alfred went to the table and adjusted the pot. 

“Oh,” Dick mumbled. “Nice tree.”

“If you’d rather I keep it in my quarters…”

“No!” Bruce and Dick said in unison. “It’s fine where it is,” Bruce added. He ran his fingertips over one of the branches, flinching at the shower of dry needles that fell from it. “It… smells nice.”

Alfred nodded slightly and went into the kitchen. “Breakfast is served.”

~~~~~*~~~~~

The first ornament appeared that afternoon. It was a reindeer, or rather, was supposed to be a reindeer. 

Alfred explained, “I purchased it from a young girl outside the grocery store.” Dick moved closer to get a better look. 

It was actually a candy cane, with eyes barely held on by glue and brown pipe cleaners twisted to vaguely resemble antlers. A thin red ribbon suspended it from one of the now bowed branch. 

Bruce raised an eyebrow but said nothing. 

~~~~~*~~~~~

Dick came home from school with two construction paper bells. He hung them from one of the upper branches, hoping the poor tree wouldn’t topple from the weight. When the second was hung, he turned and found Alfred watching him. He stammered, “We made them in class today, and I was going to put them in my room, but the tree looked so bare…”

“I think they look fine.” Alfred replied. “Shall we have some hot chocolate before you start you homework…”

~~~~~*~~~~~

After dinner, Bruce headed into the study to watch the news. Batman would be making the rounds soon enough, but he was only as good as his intel. 

As he watched the set, his gaze drifted to the tree. He noticed the glitter of the handmade bells and found himself smiling slightly. The poor tree looked positively pitiful. He stood up and went to the table, wondering what possessed Alfred to bring home such a pathetic thing. 

Still…

The fireplace made the room glow just so, and the tree did look at home in the firelight. That pot though…

He looked around the room and took the small lap quilt from one of the chairs. Folding it in half, he wrapped the quilt around the pot, hiding it in faded homespun. He turned the tree this way, then that, and stepped back. Nodding to no one in particular, he went back to his chair and turned up the volume.

Lights appeared the next morning. A faint dusting of tinsel glimmered from the little branches.

Dick sat in the front seat of the Bentley holding a few cookies leftover from the school holiday party. Looking out the window, he watched the neighborhood houses go by with little interest. Spotting the occasional tree in the window, he found himself thinking of his parents, but for some reason, the tears that normally followed didn’t surface. He thought of the trees his mother put up in their little trailer, sometimes on the road, sometimes in Florida where Haly’s would often spend their off-seasons. They never had any ‘real’ ornaments, since storage space was non-existent. Instead, they’d drape their little trees with popcorn and make trim out of discarded flyers and newsprint. And at the end of the season, instead of tossing the tree into the trash, they’d carefully place it into a year-end bonfire to light their way into the New Year. 

“That is a curious smile on your face, Master Dick.”

Dick turned to Alfred, shaking his head. “Just thinking how we could maybe poke holes in these leftover cookies and maybe hang them on the tree.”

Alfred turned onto the estate driveway. “I’m afraid these cookies may be too heavy for the tree. But perhaps we could make up a new batch that the tree could support.”

“Yeah,” Dick said. Heading into the house, he turned to Alfred. “Could we do popcorn too? I mean for the tree?”

Stifling a grin, Alfred nodded. “I think that can be arranged?”

~~~~~*~~~~~

Bruce stared out his office window, bored out of his mind. This close to the holidays, no one wanted to start anything even vaguely resembling work. Having things unfinished at the end of the year was apparently bad luck and more importantly, bad business. The company Christmas party was due to start in two hours, though since he’d hinted he would be leaving early, the preparations were already taking place. As they say, ‘When the cat’s away…’

It was still twenty minutes until his unofficial departure time. He tapped his pen on the desk, staring at what was left of the box of homemade Christmas cookies on his desk. His admin, Fiona, left them in his office with a holiday card with a small penguin ornament attached. He in turn, gave her two tickets to Aruba and use of the company bungalow for a week. 

Fair trade, he thought as he bit the head off another gingerbread man.

Gathering his things, he tucked the box into his briefcase and headed out. The party wasn’t quite in full swing, but he was still handed a plastic flute filled with non-alcoholic eggnog. He toasted everyone, waved and wished everyone a happy holiday, and took the elevator to the garage. 

~~~~~*~~~~~

The manor smelled… wonderful. Cinnamon, ginger, and other spices Bruce couldn’t identify wafted through the hall from the kitchen. He headed into the study and hung the penguin on one of the branches. The tree was looking a little more festive now. Setting his briefcase on the desk, he headed into the kitchen.

Dick sat at the table stringing popcorn from a large bowl. Alfred was rolling out what he guessed was cookie dough on the board in front of him. Dozens of cookies were cooling on racks near the sink. 

“Looks like you’ve been busy…” Bruce said, sneaking a broken cookie off the rack. 

“We’re making ornaments for the tree,” Dick explained. “I’m gonna hang this popcorn on it too, if it doesn’t topple over.”

Bruce leaned against the counter, chewing thoughtfully. “That was my job too.”

“What?”

“Stringing popcorn.” He glanced at Alfred, then continued. “My mother and Alfred would bake the cookies, my father would hang the lights, and I would string the popcorn. Then after dinner, we’d hang the popcorn and the ornaments and listen to Christmas music.” He shook himself out of the memory. “I haven’t done it in years.”

Dick turned his attention to his string. “My dad would find the tree too. Mom would make the decorations, and we’d order a pizza and decorate the tree while we waited for it to come. After dinner, we’d usually head into town and look at the lights.”

Bruce offered, “We could order a pizza—“

Alfred cleared his throat. “We will do no such thing.” 

At the pair’s stunned expression, he clarified. “I’ll not have that prefabricated, sodium filled garbage masquerading as sustenance in my kitchen. We will MAKE a pizza.” He set his rolling pin aside and headed into the pantry, ignoring the smirks exchanged between his charges. Only when he was safely out of view did he allow himself to smile. He paused a moment, then called out, “Master Bruce, please wash your hands before you start frosting those cookies.” At the muffled laughter, he continued gathering his ingredients.

~~~~~*~~~~~

Alfred cleared away the ribbon as they all surveyed their work. The tree didn’t look pathetic anymore. Granted, it wasn’t a “society” tree, but it was just right. The branches drooped under the weight of cookies, popcorn, tinsel and lights. Alfred trimmed the branches with red velvet bows while Dick and Bruce made short work of the leftover cookies. Finally, Alfred pulled out an old box.

“This is traditionally the last thing to go on the tree.” He pulled out a simple gold star. Bruce’s eyes lit up at the sight. 

“Dad—I mean, my father would hold me up and I’d put it on the top of the tree,” he said, wistfully.

Alfred nodded. “It’s traditionally the job of the youngest member of the family to hang the star.” 

Bruce turned to Dick. “If you’d do the honors...”

Dick took the star from Alfred. He was tall enough, and if need be, he could move a chair near the tree. But as he approached the tree, he looked to Bruce. 

Bruce gently lifted the boy and steadied him as Dick hung the star. Stepping back from the tree, Bruce noticed Dick wiping the tears from his eyes. He knelt down and put a hand on Dick’s shoulder. Dick turned and hugged Bruce as he quietly cried into his shoulder. Bruce patted his back in quiet understanding.

Alfred quietly excused himself before his own tears could fall.  
~~~~~*~~~~~

The trees that followed were set up in the Cave. Glitter covered handprints were later joined by turned wood spindles; candy cane reindeer shared spaces with chocolate kiss wreaths. Ornaments appeared from all over, from overseas trips to local gas stations (although Alfred refused to let Dick hang the ‘Christmas Moon’ from the local “Pecks” restaurant). 

Like every proper society house, there would be a fifteen foot tall tree in the manor foyer, decorated to within an inch of its life by the same company that decorated the grounds. But the family tree...


End file.
